115. Mokona’s Harvest

Kurama paid no attention to how anyone else reacted. The most important thing was that he had finally found his Mokona again!

Holding the little one tightly against his chest with just enough strength not to hurt him, Kurama felt the familiar soft, warm little body rubbing and wriggling against him as it always did. With a satisfied sigh, he lifted the white ball into his hands and planted a hearty kiss on his pudgy little cheek.

Hades had told him that, ever since his contact with the “World’s Gift” hidden deep within the Underworld, the impact had been simply too great. Moreover, Kurama himself had needed time to digest and absorb the feedback he had received from the World’s Gift after helping it grow. Thus, although the fox spirit had felt that only a short while had passed, he had actually remained in a state of deep sleep for more than five full days.

To the King of the Underworld, that amount of time was nothing at all. But ever since they had begun their journey, Kurama had never been separated from his little white ball for so long—not even for a moment. Five days was one thing; even five hours would have been enough to make him unable to bear letting Mokona leave his side.

And judging from the little one’s appearance, he must have suffered a great deal during that time, all by himself. By then, Kurama had long since thrown his earlier theory—that the mark of the Creator God upon Mokona had caused the people of the Sanctuary to worship him like a divine being—somewhere far out of mind.

When Aaron shattered the barrier covering the sky above the Sanctuary, Kurama had distinctly sensed a familiar aura.

He did not know why the person serving as the core source of energy sustaining the entire barrier had changed from the goddess Sasha to Mokona. Nor did he know whether Mokona had volunteered for the task or been forced into it. Kurama knew perfectly well that, given the character of the Saints, they could never have threatened his little ball. Nevertheless, after a long bout of irrational speculation, the fox spirit had been consumed with heartache for his white bundle of fluff.

And while watching the surrounding Gold Saints being crushed beneath the terrifyingly immense pressure of Aaron’s cosmos, he had secretly thought, “Serves you right.”

Kurama would never personally take revenge on Mokona’s behalf. Choosing to remain in the Sanctuary had been Mokona’s own decision, and no one could be blamed for it. One could only say that the little one and the Sanctuary had probably each gotten what they needed.

But quietly taking out a little personal resentment while standing on the sidelines did not violate Kurama’s principles.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Kurama gently rubbed his cheek against the little one’s tiny face, where two natural pink blushes had appeared after being kissed, and spoke in a soft voice.

“Mokona waited a long time, didn’t you? Were you afraid all by yourself?”

The white ball shook his head.

“Mokona knew Kurama would definitely come to get me! So I wasn’t afraid at all.”

The fox spirit gave him an especially indulgent smile.

“Of course. How could I ever leave Mokona all alone?”

His fingers gently supported the little one’s soft body as Kurama rested his forehead against Mokona’s. His gaze was so tender that it seemed ready to melt into a pool of emerald water.

“I told you already. To me, Mokona is the most important companion in the world—and family, too…”

The little one stared at Kurama for a while. The two rosy patches on his face grew visibly darker and wider.

Seeing that Mokona’s spirits had risen, and that his good mood had washed away the trace of disappointment and worry he had tried so hard to conceal but had ultimately failed to hide from Kurama, the fox spirit stopped teasing him.

Kurama could more or less guess what was troubling Mokona. The little one was probably blaming himself for failing to protect Kurama properly. If Diarmuid had not intervened in time, the two of them might have been seriously injured—or even torn apart—inside the passage between worlds.

But quite apart from the fact that this could never possibly be considered Mokona’s fault, even if it truly had been, how could Kurama ever bear to blame him?

It was only natural for the little one to have a knot in his heart. And it was only natural for Kurama to untie it without making a fuss.

After all, they had said it before: it was precisely because they valued and cared for one another that there were so many worries and entanglements between them.

While the pair reunited after their long separation in an affectionate display of embraces and kisses, Aaron and Sasha, whose carefully unfolding scene had been interrupted, along with all the Gold Saints who had been forced to watch this dazzling spectacle of devotion, had long since fallen into silent speechlessness.

Please.

How were they supposed to perform their grand drama of hatred, love, and battle when the atmosphere was this sweet and harmonious? Could the two of them at least pay a little attention to the mood?

Where was the King of the Underworld’s carefully cultivated, fashionable declaration of dark, melodramatic villainy? Where was the goddess’s righteous and ringing rebuttal? Where were the stirring oaths of the Gold Saints, one through five, swearing to oppose the forces of darkness? And where was the fierce final clash, with its twists and reversals?

What had happened to all the things they had been promised?

The crowd stared expressionlessly at the man and the fluffball flaunting their affection without a care in the world. The urge to complain, building steadily within them, was already on the verge of breaking through its limits.

At that moment, Kurama and Mokona seemed to sense the many heated gazes gathering around them.

The two exchanged a glance. Under the fox spirit’s gentle gaze, Mokona moved his little hand, and a golden circular stone tablet rose into the air beside him.

“A sacred relic?!”

In an instant, all the Gold Saints exclaimed in low voices as one.

Mokona nodded at them from a distance, then turned his gaze toward the grave-faced Sasha and Pope Sage, who was concealed behind the shadow of a huge, towering stone pillar before the entrance to the goddess’s inner temple.

“Although you call this a sacred relic, and have indeed kept it safe for many years, I’m sorry—but now Mokona has to take it back.”

Before he had even finished speaking, Sasha hurried forward.

“But, my lord…”

Hearing the way Sasha addressed Mokona, Aaron turned and cast the little one a deep look. But when he received the intense warning and guardedness in Kurama’s eyes, he merely curled the corner of his mouth in indifference, turned back, and continued watching Sasha.

Mokona, meanwhile, merely gave this incarnation of Athena a calm glance.

“If you were only safeguarding it on behalf of its owner, then now that the original owner wishes to reclaim it, what objection could you possibly have?”

Sasha pressed her lips together. She truly had no way to refute Mokona’s reasoning.

Kurama, on the other hand, found it rather novel to see Mokona looking so dignified and imperious, and secretly gave one of the little one’s ears a gentle squeeze.

Mokona smiled at him and blinked, then turned back to Sasha and Sage.

“As for guarding the Sanctuary’s barrier on your behalf these past few days, consider it a small payment. Now that our debts and obligations are settled…”

Before he could finish, a streak of white light suddenly shot out from the goddess’s inner temple. After stopping beside Mokona and Kurama, it revealed the figure of the snow-rabbit familiar Cui in human form.

“Master, Mokona, and the finest of your wives.”

Seeing her master, from whom she had been forcibly separated earlier, Cui was delighted. Although she did not see Lord Xuan beside Kurama, she wisely said nothing. After respectfully saluting, she stood of her own accord behind Kurama.

The fox spirit smiled and nodded at her.

“Xuan is waiting somewhere safe and didn’t come with me. You’ll see him very soon.”

Relief and joy flickered across Cui’s face.

Mokona also let out a small sigh of relief.

He truly loved the two snow-rabbit familiars very, very much. The three of them usually played together wonderfully. Although he knew that Xuan could never come to harm while Kurama was there, hearing Kurama personally say that he was safe was still far more reassuring.

Pressing his tiny lips together, the white ball tried to make himself look as solemn and dignified as possible.

“Finally… there is one more matter.”

As he spoke, he raised one little hand and pointed toward Sasha.

“This child…” he murmured with a soft sigh. “Since he came here because of me, naturally… he should also return because of me.”

Everyone was startled. Only then did they realize that Mokona was not pointing at Sasha, but at Mu, who was quietly retreating a short distance from her.

The young boy who had appeared in the Sanctuary as abruptly as Mokona on that same day—though not in the same place—and who claimed to be Shion’s disciple.

“Wait—”

Shion’s words of protest had not even left his mouth when a dazzling white light burst from Mokona’s fingertip. At the same time, a small, intricate magic circle appeared beneath Mu’s feet, enveloping the boy’s entire figure within it.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the white light, the magic circle, and even the boy Mu himself vanished from the spot.

“The order of space and time cannot be disturbed by ‘chance.’ His arrival here was influenced by me, not guided by the destiny ordained by the stars. Therefore… he cannot remain.”

Mokona lowered his eyes, and there was something in his words that felt intensely familiar to Kurama—a certain unmistakable flavor belonging to the Dimensional Witch.

It seemed that the little one had imitated Miss Yuuko’s tone, expressions, and manner of speaking in order to fool the Gold Saints and the goddess Athena.

The fox spirit could not help smiling.

So the boy who had been standing beside Sasha earlier had actually been Mu? Had he crossed through time from the original Saint Seiya era into the age of The Lost Canvas because of the disturbance caused when Diarmuid forcibly broke through the barrier between worlds while carrying Kurama and Mokona?

Still unclear about what had happened, Kurama frowned. He was somewhat worried that Mokona’s recent act of sending Mu back to his original point in time might have placed too great a burden on him. After all, the little one had already expended a tremendous amount of energy maintaining the enormous barrier over the Sanctuary.

The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. Seeing that Mokona seemed to have said and done everything he needed to, Kurama nodded to Aaron, then activated the gate to the Elysian Fields whose coordinates Hades had given him before his departure.

In an instant, he vanished before Aaron, Sasha, and all the Gold Saints.

Neither Kurama nor Mokona knew that, at that very moment, Sasha was struggling to identify a vague message within her own cosmos—a message transmitted with great difficulty through psychic power at the instant Mokona had “sent” Mu away.

The message was:

“The Holy War is not as it should be.”